A Lover's Companion
by Ignis Cogitare
Summary: A one-shot companion series to Ronin's "A Lover's Quest" that details the experiences of other characters his story. Read that first. NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. Read and review please.
1. Order

**WARNING**

**This story may contain torture, gore, and other unsavory topics.**

**It is not recommended for those faint of heart or stomach.**

**This story was not created out of the authors interests, but as a reminder that the atrocities committed in this story are far from fictional. Many such actions are taken against fellow humans every day. I think it's awful, and I heavily condemn it.**

* * *

Khione was a cold goddess, a stony, frost encrusted exterior of perfect white skin surrounding a frigid, offish heart and a superlicious mind. At least, that was what the mortals described her as. She by no means agreed with them, in fact they had her completely wrong. Well, they were correct in one regard. She was often encrusted in frost, a testament to her gelid domain, but that was not reflective of her true nature. She was not a haughty and passionless deity as so many said her to be. She was reserved, she was smart, she was the perfect example of consummate austerity.

And yet in all her thousands of years of life she had failed to see the image she held of herself manifest in the eyes of others. Said manifestation came closest to fruition in the eyes of her father, Boreas, but his vision of her was still slightly off. To him, she was his strong and fierce daughter, a formidable force he was proud to bring into his business. And yes, she was a fierce goddess, but that did not define her fully.

She figured her personality the reason why the son of Hephaestus, Leo, had bothered her to the extent that he did. His tumultuous personality drew a stark contrast to her orderly motif, must have been what made her so thoroughly opposed to his genial entirety. How something so weak and puny could have taken on the righteous fury of Gaea while the naive daughter of Aphrodite and her friends tamed the riotous masses she could not comprehend. The encounter had left her stroppy for days, far longer than any mortal should have been able to affect her.

It was a miracle that the son of Poseiden lacked that effect on her. He was predictable, a foolish demigod gifted with unrelenting power and stamina, topped off with a deadly aptitude for swordplay that had boosted him into the spot of harem master that he now held. He was unendingly benevolent to those he felt loyalty to, a horrid trait to possess. Loyalty was not something that obeyed logical order, nor was being kind without reason. And yet, by all logical order, she should be raining justice down upon those who had shunned her.

Instead, she was firmly affixed to the dungeon wall of said sea child's harem mansion, the grips of the celestial bronze shackles somehow even feeling cold for her. At least there was some order to the place. Every morning an oceanid, whose name Khione couldn't be bothered to remember, brought her food, then left. At least, it went this way for a while.

One day, however, the routine was shattered. Instead of the mature and reserved oceanid, an exuberant nebulae bounded through the dungeon door, a plate of food barely maintaining balance on her outstretched, thin fingers. She seemed overjoyed about her task, and flung the cell door open with reckless abandon.

Khione smiled. She had been gathering her energy for days, slowly building until she could make a single, precise attack on the perfect subject. This was it. Such a light and airy personality, bubbling forth from her nubile body. She was sure to be the delight of the island. She wouldn't be after long. Khione pulsed her power in a focused blast at the unsuspecting nymph, her eyes flashing an icy blue. The nymph collapsed, rapidly paling as the glacial cold pierced her, spreading throughout her body. Khione could feel the ice forming, the crystals rapidly growing and perforating the internals of the young nebulae. Her frail body trembled, rapidly cutting off supplies of energy and oxygen to it's very own organs and extremities, desperately grasping at straws for survival.

It wasn't long after that the head nymph walked into the dungeon, horror crossing her face as she noticed the frozen nebulae. She rushed forward, warily glancing at Khione before dragging her fellow slave from the splotch of snow that had formed under her. Khione released a satisfied sigh, ignoring the screams of the oceanid. She had struck perfectly, at the exact moment, at the exact right target. As she collected her thoughts, the effect of the burst of energy finally began to take effect. Ever so slowly, she relented to the insistent pull of sleep.

Khione awoke to water crushing down on her. The thin film gripped her tightly, squeezing upon every inch of her body. Before her stood Perseus, his normally gentle expression contorted into a snarl that seemed alien to his tanned features. His eyes swam with a fury that flowed from the depths of the deep, swirling inky pits of glaucous malevolence. "So," he started, his voice seemingly barely contained to an almost sadistically calm level, "I give you a chance to get out of here. I tried to be nice. I wanted you out of this dungeon as much as you did."

Khione narrowed her eyes, leveling her icy glare upon the demigod. His fingers twitched, slightly closing, and the pressure increased. She could feel the burn of her skin and extremities slowly losing blood flow, the very beat of her veins straining through her skin against the crushing watery grip. Her diaphragm trembled, it's struggles to continue the rising and falling of her chest proving gradually more inefficacious. She struggled to keep the fear from her eyes, not only from the threat of violence, but from the disorder he was displaying. She had been wrong to provoke him, and wrong to judge him as a predictable token, something she could play into her games and manipulate to her liking.

"Despite all of my effort to help you… you… you go and attack one of my handmaidens." He chuckled darkly, though how something could be amusing to this fiendish version of the praised hero she could not imagine. As he spoke, his tone grew more cutting, the water surrounding her tightening down. She could feel it constricting tighter, to the point where she felt like a soda can slowly being dragged into the depths of the ocean, the thin water beginning to dig into her coarctate pores with the immense pressure. She thrashed against the liquid that blanketed her, and then she turned her head. There stood Piper, the very demigoddess that had defeated her, her expression a cold maleficence that terrified Khione. She automatically attempted to scream, opening her mouth slightly further in doing so.

Before Perseus could fine tune his control of the water, a few drops of the water rocketed into her mouth as she opened it further, the power behind them evident as they flew in. The crashed against her teeth, the splash stinging her gums, one of the drops hitting her incisor so hard it was knocked loose, bent backwards as the deflected drop slammed into her delicate soft palate. "Oh, don't mind her for now," Percy muttered, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper, "She'll get to you in a bit."

He grasped her upper arm, the water releasing her, before using his arm to swing her across the cell, her shoulder feeling close to dislocating the entire way until she slammed into the bars, her earlier damaged tooth flying from her mouth. She gasped out, barely managing a strangled gasp before rough hands pulled her back from the bars by her hair. She clawed for the bars that she so hated, attempting to free herself from the savage grip of her tormentor. She was suddenly shoved back forward, her outstretched hands slamming into them, a loud crunch emanating from her hand as her pointer finger bent way too far, though that pain was soon dulled by the dizzying collision of her head with the bars, ichor instantly flooding down from her forehead.

"I- I'm sorry," she choked out, the apology seemingly even more important than the much needed breath she could have taken. No mercy came however, and she felt parts of her hair tear out as he flung her to the other side of the cage. She couldn't tell if the ringing in her ears was the resounding clang of her head hitting the bars or the aftershocks of said impact. Perseus kneeled down next to her, roughly jerking her head to face him.

"Oh, no you're not," he whispered, "Not yet." Still gripping her chin with one hand, his other swung around, crashing into her bleeding temple so hard that a splash of ichor hit the walls. Between his grasp and strike, her jaw gave way, only coming loose from his grasp after it dislocated on one side. He rained down blow after blow, precise strikes targeting her sternum, forcing the heavily sensitized bone to crack under his force, raining blows on her legs and knees until the fragments of her patella began to carve into the soft join tissue below that it was supposed to protect. Khione screamed for mercy futilely, the coat of ichor making it hard to tell her limbs from his. By the time he stepped away, it was all she could do to grip the bars in the corner of her cage, one eye swollen shut and the other already spent of it's tears, trembling. Perseus slid off his belt, handing the length to Piper. "Help yourself."

The demigoddess stared at Khione, a petrifying mask of pure epicaricacy adorning her features. Her thin, perfectly manicured fingers trailed tentative traces down the brown leather belt, finally coming to rest at the brass buckle. She fiddled idly with the prong as she slowly approached the cowering goddess, seemingly devoid of rage. In the blink of an eye, her calm facade gave way to the scowl of her execrable bate, her muscled arms swinging the belt in a devastating arc. The prong stabbed into her skin, before rapidly ripping itself out like a mailbox hit by a car. The firm leather traumatized the tissue it contacted, the pressure rapidly bursting her capillaries and detaching the skin from the subcutaneous fat beneath it. The strikes continued, until finally Khione choked out, "Leave it to Percy's dollar whore to carry out her master's bidding."

Perseus, who had been walking away, turned at this. He stalked towards her, raising his hand to lay a blow down on her once more, when Piper grasped his arm, stopping him. "I've got an idea. Just let it happen."

She turned to Khione, uttering a laugh so cold it reminded the goddess of her own, before speaking in a tone rich with condescension. "Dollar whore?" She looped the belt around Khione's neck, cinching it tight, before speaking again, this time with a vitriolic sweetness dripping from her words, "Oh honey. I'd do this for free."

Piper pulled Perseus to the bars, pushing his pants off in a manner that could be deemed almost aggressive, before crouching down to face his waist, dragging Khione with her. "Let's see how much of a 'dollar whore' I am. And you _will_ watch this. If you don't, this will get much worse for you." Her voice was laced with an ethereal malice that Khione only later recognized as the cursed charm speak gifted to all daughters of Aphrodite.

"But I can't see out of this eye! It's not my fault I'm now half blind!" She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she could swear that Perseus winced at this. Piper, however was by no means sympathetic, seemingly growing even more cold at her words.

"Well you better crane your neck and turn your head. Otherwise, this will only be the beginning." With that, she descended on Perseus with an ardent zeal, relinquishing herself to amorous forces unseen within her, causing Perseus to grip the bars of the cage so hard that some of Khione's own blood oozed from between his fingers, dripping down onto her head in sanguinary mockery.

The belt around Khione's neck both helped and hindered her efforts to maintain eye contact with the erotic scene before her, intermittendly loosing contact. Somehow, without even breaking eye contact with her master above her, Piper immediately discerned when Khione failed in her endeavors to do as she was told, yanking her back against the bars by the belt. As Piper's task drew to its end, she began pulling the belt so hard that Khione's already impaired vision blurred, the wet squelches echoing off the dungeon walls reducing to a light hum, only occasionally interrupted by the creaking of her spine as it barely managed to hold off the tightening belt.

When the jigsaw puzzle that was her world finally pieced itself back together before her frazzled senses, she was once again shackled to the wall. Perseus was gone, and the only Piper remained, slowly advancing on the torpefied goddess of snow. Her hands hung at her side, one of them holding her signature blade, Katoptris. The honed point of the mirror polished blade from so long ago trailed small, even circled in the air as its wielder idly rolled her wrist. But as she grew closer, she failed to raise the blade, as if not interested in actually using it to maim the goddess.

It was only when the tip of the blade came to rest upon Khione's waist that she realized what was to come. Her eyes widened in terror as the daughter of Aphrodite slowly pushed the dagger into her core. Her inner walls trembled and flexed as Khione desperately tried to keep pressure off the keen edge. Slowly, however, the slight cuts caused by the grazing of the blade along her interior as it was slid all the way inside her overwhelmed the now tearful goddess's self control. Her body instinctively spasmed, the muscles across her body tightening so suddenly it hurt, but not as much as her insides suddenly clamping themselves down upon the blade. They clamped as tightly as they could as Khione fought desperately to control her own muscles, until finally they had gripped on the edge of the blade so hard that they couldn't contract any more.

Piper, sensing that she was no longer getting a reaction from her subject from the current placement of the blade, jerked it out suddenly from its sheath in the quivering, sobbing goddess. She trailed the ichor stained blade along her body, leaving superficial scratches, and carefully watching how the goddess responded to each inch that was touched by the knife, and when she found a sensitive spot, she would go to work. She gouged the blade in arcs, twisting the blade slightly sideways so that it bit and caught into the skin, repeatedly catching, then cutting itself loose. Slowly, she carved small, mutilated gills into the white, cold skin, before moving on and using the same method as before to find another sensitive spot, until the only places left were those where she had little to no nerves, her back, her shins. Small, ragged sets of three curved cuts adorned almost the entirety of the goddess, perforating her lip and cheeks, into her stomach and above and below, almost like a child who discovered a symbol he relished drawing and so drew it out across the walls of his house.

It was hours later when Piper finally stopped. She admired her work, before stalking from the room without a word. Khione hung, drifting in and out of consciousness, as her divine powers barely managed to stem the bleeding in time and prevent her fading.

Khione was a cold goddess. But more than that she was a put together goddess, and ordered goddess, and that was something that had always served her well. But not here. Here her cold disengagement had no say, no power. Here fiery forces flowed and fumed, fickle fancies and faltering foundations of corrupting morals surreptitiously caving in the careful structure of kindred souls that dwelled in the abode above her head. And here was no place for order.


	2. Jocund

Nothing could quite describe the awe inspiring nature of the radiant light that streamed down the roughly hewn stone steps, piercing and pushing back the damp shadows of the corners of the dungeon. The light seemed to bend tightly around the frame of the door, as if eager to illuminate her world. The light was briefly cut off as Perseus and Annabeth hobbled from the room.

Khione wasn't sure how long she sat there upon the floor, nor did she want to think why she did. Maybe it was the way that the light reflected of the last few sparkles of gold left in her faded ichor on the floor. Maybe it was a fear that this was all a trick, and that as soon as she emerged from the dungeon she would be shoved back in, and beaten as she was before. Or maybe it was even some strange mutation of stockholm syndrome that had managed to take hold of her divine mind. None of the options that came to mind were pleasant, and she was sure that no explanation would be. Regardless, she refused to stay long enough for any one of the possibilities to manifest itself as truth.

She felt jealous of Perseus, who had his concubines to support him as he recovered from her injury. She had to reacquaint her unused legs with standing on her own, using the bars of her cage to hoist her body upward. Despite this handicap, her godly body and pure fear of letting herself remain in the dungeon any longer were enough to overcome the almost indomitable refusal to move that her legs gave. With slow, carefully orchestrated steps that felt detached from her being, alien due to the lack of use for so long, she made her way to the stairs, and slowly ascended them. The dungeon seemed to call to her, incorporeal hands attempting to pull her back as she fought for her freedom. It was the work of a deity, she was sure, but not Aphrodite. The magic was not of the same age, and it's caster was becoming rapidly more apparent as they scrambled for purchase on Khione's mind. She was sure it wasn't Aphrodite now. She grasped back with her own divine mind, attempting to rapidly reel in the source.

The image resolved, a figure cloaked in darkness. There was a crown on their head, a golden apple in their hand. _I, catalyst of the Trojan War, orchestrator of death, hereby use my power to correct the wrongs I have been put through. I was forgotten one too many times, and now they sha-_ A splitting pain coursed through Khione's vision, the deity had noticed her, and had cut the magic. She slammed the dungeon door shut, sliding down to the hallway floor as she grasped her head in her hands. Looking down upon herself, she sighed, for it was a pitiful sight. Her nails had grown long, chips decorating the ends and scuffs adorning the surface. She was coated in a slight layer of sweat and grime, though it was certainly lessened by when Perseus had used water to heal her. She shivered, recalling the terrifying way that his eyes hardened, how they went from that of a kind, benevolent soul that she could trust with her every woe to that of a sadistic authoritarian, choking her, dishing out every bit of punishment that he could for breaking his own personal laws he imposed upon her; making her realize that she truly was the issue in the grand and perfect order of the household. _No. She wasn't an issue, she had done nothing wrong... and neither had he, Aphrodite was influencing him._ Small, salty tears carved paths in the panic risen frost upon her cheeks, slowly dripping from her chin onto the ruined shreds that once was her dress, now more exposing than a beach bikini.

Khione shook her head, the physical gesture doing little to help her clear the thoughts clouding her mind, but nonetheless she did. She would have to visit the nymphs, they could help… would they help was the true question. Slowly she wandered through the halls, up and down staircases, gazing admirably at the impeccably designed corridors of the labyrinthine mansion.

She heard the nymphs before she saw them, barely picking up on their quiet utterances.

"...want to give him..."

"...won't expect it..."

"...when should we..."

The conversation ceased instantly as Khione appeared in the doorway. A purple oceanid lay in the bed, a thermos tightly gripped below her wide eyed, wan face. A dryad with splotched grey skin also looked at her with fear, but her hand creeping out to grab the fruit knife from the table made it clear she was a fighter. And while it hurt that they thought they might have to fight her, nothing hurt more than the lead nymph instantly placing herself between Khione and the two younger nymphs, her stance that of a timid protectiveness. It was her that spoke first.

"I...I assume that master has released you?" she postulated the question in a harsh, aggressive tone, a stark contrast to the frightened, pusillanimous countenance. Khione nodded in confirmation. The grey eye of the cloud nymph she had frozen, Nimba if she recalled correctly, peered around the older oceanid; her terrified gaze biting much deeper into Khione's psyche than she would have both expected or liked, stirring up an emotion wholly unfamiliar to her.

"Yes, he… he did," she responded, her voice proving weak from disuse, "I wanted to request a room to sleep in."

The oceanid looked at her with a cautious yet disdainful gaze, "You will have to wait for that. It is not our job to situate you." That was fair.

Without a word, she left the nymphs to themselves. She could just barely hear a myriad of held breaths being released. The halls seemed almost entirely devoid of life, only the sounds of other people moving around in their rooms or on the floor above reassured her that she was not once again alone. She almost missed the marking for the bathroom, but caught it at the last minute. Stepping inside, she locked the door. The shower wasn't even a different section of the room, instead it was a walk in, the drain embedded in the floor. She stepped into the shower, letting her snowy dress melt away, leaving her form nude. Firmly grasping the the crystalline knob, she twisted it, sharply gasping as the sparkling, cold water washed over her body. She sat there, arms hanging to her sides as she relished in the delightfully chilled water. It reminded her of the ponds she would bathe in all those millenia ago, their thin layers of ice like a blanket to her submerged body. She let the water flow down her front and memories to cascade through her mind, soothing, pacifying.

She reached out for the soap on the shower shelf, and froze. Displayed before her eyes was a ghastly burlesque of her dreaded dungeon. Wet stones, glossy with moisture, her own breathing echoing off the walls and feeding itself back into her ears, her arm before her stained a yellowed grey from so long without a proper shower. Khione yanked her hand back, trembling violently. Her own horrid fantasy enveloped her, and she sunk to her knees, the water splashing upon her no longer enough to lull her into placidity. How pathetic of her, to be kneeling like one of the so many pitiful ice sculptures she had made before.

An idea sparked within her. She remembered that one of the more recent people she had frozen did something that quite intrigued her. He was trembling, terrified like all those before him. But then he began to take deep, stuttering breaths, in and out at a constant rhythm. As he did this, his trembling mellowed, until eventually he looked at her, perfectly put together with a harsh and stony glare. _Maybe it was worth a try._ Forcefully, she began to breathe as he did. Slowly, in, and out, and in and out again and again until finally, the feeling of control started to creep back into her. She was fine, this was her body, under her control. She was fine.

On a whim, she stood from the shower floor, and turned the shower knob to the hot side. Contrary to what she knew some people believed, mild heat did not produce a feeling of pain within her. No, instead it was distracting. It muddled her brain, and she hated that. She was a goddess of control and precision, and she was always in control and precise. That was how she liked it, to be the sole queen of her inclement world.

Maybe that was what her problem was. She was by no means a queen now, no indeed she was a lowly concubine. So maybe it was okay to surrender control some of the time. Surrender it to herself, to the water, to Perseus-_No. _Through her loathing of the pure concept of surrendering to Perseus, she knew she would have to eventually.

Her world began to dissolve into a fog, and Khione wasn't entirely sure that it was the steam. She felt light, floaty, free. The warm water felt so pleasant, so blissed. Indeed, it was okay to surrender once and awhile, to allow herself to be ensnared by the sybaritic desires that she normally so adamantly suppressed. The water caressed her, like Perseus had done so many days ago.

Khione shut off the water and towelled off. Her mind slowly regained it's clarity. She rummaged through the drawers under the sink until she found a handcrafted wooden hair brush. She slowly ran the bristles through her hair, relishing in the feeling. She enjoyed combing her hair. It reminded her of the lengths of her immortal life, and all the times she had done it before. After all, it was always her that managed her hair. She had only had it done by other people 4 times in her life. Her father had done it once before the start of each giant war, seeming almost as if he cared for her as more than his fearsome warrior daughter. Cal had done it once, likely in some pathetic attempt to win her sisterly affection. And then there was Perseus… ironically, despite the circumstances, neither Boreas nor Cal had managed to show the care that he had. Finishing with the trailing end of her silky black hair, she picked the few strands of her hair from the brush, letting them float down into the trash can.

Staring herself down in the mirror, she summoned a dress of snow around her form once more. Her glare hardened as she attempted to regain her usual countenance that sent fear into the hearts of mortals. She barely managed a bitter smile. It was no use.

Striding out into the hall, she strode on, continuing her absentminded exploration of the mansion. The corridor gave way to an extravagant kitchen, expanses of florid counters stretching around it's boundaries. Her nails trailed along the satiny stone, before reaching out and plucking a brilliant red apple from a patinated jorum. Khione leaned back against the kitchen island, watching the sun set on the beach outside as she slowly ate her apple. While the sweet, crisp flesh of the fruit was indeed satisfying, it only made her long for the taste of nectar.

It was only minutes after she finished eating that the sun finally sunk below the horizon, and the vivid blues of the darkening sky seemed so pleasing to her drooping eyes. The thought that troubled her in the sleepy minutes before her surrender to unconsciousness was one of servitude. No, not that she was put into it. But that the thought of surrendering herself to the master of the island, to Perseus, bugged her not nearly as much as it should have.

The same deity she had seen earlier haunted her dreams, which she shouldn't have even had. It's shadowy figure tossed a brilliant golden apple between its hands, a rich female voice mocking her from just out of the reach of her straining eyes.

"_Oh my poor little Khione… You really weren't the target of this all, but yet here you are, forced to spread your legs to the man who's demise you shall later bring. Such a fearsome goddess you are, such a fearsome toy. My own… little… Khelidon… "_


End file.
